Kiss the Girl
by Rointheta
Summary: "Donna leans forward, observing a young, blond woman moving through the crowd. 'She has to be really important,' she says, running her hands over the beaded midriff of her ballgown. 'There's not many people that would dare coming to a party hosted by Indira in a leather jacket and black denims.'" The Doctor and Donna attend a ball when someone familiar shows up.


**Prompt: **palace + elation + lipstick  
_thanks to resile for reading it through before i posted_

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**KISS THE GIRL**

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"…and that," Donna says, nodding at a slender woman running her blue nails over her buzz cut as she talks, "is Carlita Carlos. She used to be married to the short lady over there. Mia Poe. One of the finest actresses of her time. But now Carlita's married to the bloke over by the champagne fountain. That one," Donna points as discreetly as she can, "the one with the moustache who's talking to that paparazzo with the camera around her neck. He's her ninth spouse, you know. She's a right Liz Taylor, that one. Love 'em and leave 'em. Rumor has it she's already set her eyes on her next significant other."

"Oh?" The Doctor blinks. "Is that so?"

"Mhm. Let's see if I can spot hir." Donna scans the crowded ballroom. "Ah, there ze is!"

"Hir? Ze?"

"Yeah. Unfamiliar with the pronouns, are we?"

"Not at all. I'm just surprised to hear them pop out of your mouth, of all people."

"What?" Donna quirks an eyebrow and puts one hand on her hip, gesturing with the other whilst being careful not to spill the drink she's holding. "You think I'm close-minded, Martian Boy? You think I can't fathom that there's more to this universe than he and she?"

"No. But people from your time usually—"

"Oh, my god!" Donna grabs his arm, gaping at the woman gliding past them in a shimmering dress and a sparkling circlet perched atop her black hair. "That's Indira! The Indira. No last name needed. She's one of the most influential people on the planet! She financed four of the ten biggest films this decade, and you can bet your skinny little arse that if she doesn't like a film it won't get an Oscar or a BAFTA. She's royalty. The Last Princess, they call her. She even owns this palace, you know."

"Who?"

"Indira."

"No. Who's 'they'?"

"Oh, you know. Them. They. Everybody."

The Doctor stares at Donna, mouth working without any sound coming out. He only needs to flap around to make a great impression of a fish on dry-land. She wraps her lips around the straw of her fruity drink and takes a sip to hide her smirk.

"Stop looking so daft. She's the one we should grill, and she likes beanpoles, for some ungodly reason. All her latest boy toys have been skinny streaks of nothing. So all you need to do is flirt a little. You can flirt, can't you?"

"I… What?"

"Hm…" She gives him a onceover. He doesn't fill out his smart dinner jacket enough for her taste but, with a few changes, Indira will be all over him. "Put on your specs. Undo your bowtie and lose the jacket. And maybe pop a shirt button or two whilst you're at it. Show a little chest hair." Donna grimaces, shuddering. "And stay out of my face. I'd like to keep my dinner, thank you."

"I don't understand! How do you know all this? We're in 3290. How do you know all these people?"

"Celebrities."

"What?"

"They're celebrities. I know celebrities."

"From the future?"

"Yes. You took me to a film festival a few of months ago, remember? Well, one month ago for this lot. We were chasing some shape shifting alien who could hide in digital film," she says, to the incredulous Doctor, who's gawking at her with wide eyes under furrowed brow. "You're not seriously telling me you don't remember this."

"Of course I remember!"

"Well, then you also remember that it took us three days to capture her and you can't expect me to spend three days watching films and spotting celebrities and not keep up with the gossip!"

"What?"

She tilts her head to the side. "Does champagne make Time Lords extra stupid? You've seen me read gossip rags a million times. You even tease me about it any chance you get. 'We're in the most impressive library in all of time and space, Donna Noble, and you're reading about which actor's had what body part altered recently, and who's got a secret child with whom.' Ring any bells?"

"Future," he says, over-pronouncing it. "Actors from the future."

"Well, I subscribe to the biggest gossip magazine from this time. And don't worry. I won't tell them about their future. I'm not stupid."

"How?"

"I got a thing," she says with a shrug, sipping on her drink.

"A thing?"

"Yeah. It looks like a tablet. I've got it connected to the internet through your wifi and—"

"It's not 'the internet'. It's—"

"Oh, who cares. It's like the internet. Anyway, I've got it connected to my tablet that I bought at a booth at the film festival. And you just connect that to a printer. I nicked one from the cupboard on the third floor. You know, the one that never runs out of paper or ink and—"

"I don't have a printer like that. It's physically impossible. You have to replace the ink and fill up the paper at some point, Donna."

"Well, I never have and I print one every week. Always this really great glossy paper in that printer. You can read it on the tablet, of course, but I prefer a real paper. I like flipping the pages," she says, pretending to lick her finger and flip a page with slightly pursed lips and arched brows. "Gives it a whole other feeling. Got it on my phone too, though!"

"You what?"

"Yeah, wanna have a look?"

"No. No, I do not."

"I reckoned it would come in handy. Sometimes a magazine's just not practical. Nor is a tablet! Don't much fancy lugging that around."

"How? Donna, you can't even change a fuse!"

"Oh, but that's boring. This is gossip! And how d'you think I could be the best temp from Chiswick if I didn't know my way around a printer?"

He blinks again, head bobbing around in confusion, and now he looks more like an owl than a fish. She snorts and finishes her drink with a slurp, placing the empty glass on a tray carried by a waiter walking past them.

"Anyway," the Doctor says in an exasperated tone, "back to the issue at hand. There's a temporal disturbance in this place. Someone doesn't belong. And I need to find out whom. And since I can't use my sonic…" He shoots her a pointed look.

"It's not my fault!"

"You used it to stir your drink!"

"Well, you should've said it had a setting."

"I thought that was obvious! Why would I let you shove it into a glass of fruit juice, crushed ice, and alcohol?"

She huffs, glaring at him. "I'm not exactly a mind reader, am I? Unlike some people. Now, shut it and go flirt with Indira."

"No. I don't-I don't— I don't wanna flirt with anyone. I don't care that she's the last princess; I don't flirt."

"She isn't really. There are others. But she's one of the few royalties still living that kind of a life."

He sighs. "Is there anyone else in this place we could talk to?"

"Let me have a look…" Donna drifts her eyes over the mass of people, all well-dressed and strewn with jewels glittering in the light streaming from the enormous crystal chandeliers floating beneath the ceiling. "That's Mill Jolie, voted sexiest person alive three times in a row by People magazine. And, yes, he's related to Angelina. I looked it up at the 'internet'." Donna rolls her eyes, curling her fingers into air quotes. "Her family dominates the film industry for centuries. He— Hang on. Who's that?"

She leans forward, observing a young, blond woman moving through the crowd. "She has to be really important," Donna says, running her hands over the beaded midriff of her ballgown. "There's not many people that would dare coming to a party hosted by Indira in a leather jacket and black denims."

"Blue." The Doctor sounds breathless. "Very, very dark blue."

"Hm… She does look familiar. Might be a Scandinavian Princess. There's still a lot of them. Or maybe—"

"She's a dame."

"Really? You know of her?"

"Mm. I was there. I…" He releases a shaky breath and Donna turns her gaze from the blonde to him. She's never seen him blush, but now pink tints his cheeks and glossiness brightens his eyes. "I was there when she got knighted."

"Good memory, I take it?"

"The best."

"She's important, then."

"Oh, I dare say she is. Important. Impressive. Impatient. Very impatient. Sometimes imprudent, even, but also impassioned. And impossible." A slow smile blooms on his face. "Absolutely impossible."

Donna crinkles her forehead, looking back at the blonde. Unaware of her spectators, she's weaving through the crowd, eyes moving left and right in a measured way as though she's searching for something without drawing attention to herself. Donna didn't see many people during their walk to the ball, but she saw enough to know that the woman's clothes don't belong in this time period. She turns back to the Doctor, smiling at his dazed expression.

"Suppose we found your temporal anomaly."

The Doctor nods, Adam's apple bobbing.

"Then what are you waiting for? Go get her, Spaceman."

He nods again, carding a hand through his hair, and clears his throat before tugging at the hem of his jacket.

"You look very handsome, Doctor. Proper prince Charming," she says in a warm tone, pushing him forward. "Now, go."

He blows out a sharp breath, then marches towards Rose. She soon turns her head in his direction and she freezes, mouth dropping open before widening in a radiant smile that brings tears even to Donna's eyes. They rush forward, crashing into one another in a tight embrace where he lifts up Rose and spins her around. Donna holds her breath, waiting for him to put Rose down on her feet and snog her silly.

He doesn't.

Donna frowns, scowling at the stupid alien who merely steps back and stares at his long lost girlfriend as though she were the last pair of Louboutins on sale in just the right size. Donna purses her lips and folds her arms over her chest, watching the couple chat. Rose does most of the talking, quickly at that, and accompanied by hand gestures. His eyebrows knit together as he listens and nods, then he grins and says something that, according to Donna's not-too-shabby lip reading skills and the pride shining on his face, can only be: 'Rose Tyler, defender of the Earth.'

When Rose has finished explaining, they hug again, as tightly as before, and she hides her blissful smile by burrowing her nose into his shoulder and breathing him in. They pull back and Donna leans forward in anticipation, but they still don't kiss. No, they release one another and talk again, shifting from foot to foot like some bloody teenagers.

"Oh, for the love of— Do I have to do everything myself?" she mutters to herself, ploughing through the sea of celebrities. "Hello," she says upon reaching the couple. "I'm Donna. I travel with the Doctor. You must be Rose."

"Hi, oh, yeah. Yeah." Rose gives the Doctor a curious look, small smile playing on her lips. He tugs at his bowtie, averting his eyes. "Hello, Donna. Nice to— Hang on. Don't I know you? Oh, I do!" Rose snaps her fingers. "You gave me your car keys."

"I did? Oh, I did!"

"What? You've met? Why the hell didn't you say something?"

"I didn't know she was Rose! And you never told me she was so pretty! Isn't she pretty, Doctor? Such nice lips. Wouldn't you say? All natural, too. I can tell. And no messy lipstick. Must be nice to kiss those lips, don't you reckon?"

The Doctor sputters, ears burning red, but Rose only laughs.

"It's all right. I didn't come back for a kiss."

"You didn't?" The Doctor's jaw drops, eyes almost popping out of his head. "Eeer, I mean— That's to say— Ehm, no, of course you didn't. Serious business, that," he tugs at his ear, "stars going out. Universes to save and—"

Donna shuts him up with a firm shove that sends him tumbling into Rose. He grips her waist to steady himself and, as her hands land on his upper arms, Rose looks up at him through her lashes and gives him a gentle smile. He slides his hand to the small of her back, splayed fingers pushing her closer, and breathes out her name.

"Hello," she says, smile growing into an ear-to-ear grin.

The Doctor wears a matching grin, eyes sparkling, and Donna turns around and walks away to give them some privacy.

Well, if she happens to stop at the champagne fountain where the invited press stands, and give one of the paparazzi a few tips in exchange for photos of the Doctor and Rose finally locking lips, then that's really no harm, is it?

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**the end**


End file.
